


Can You Feel The Rain?

by Oldguybones



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst With An Eventful Happy Ending, Art museum, Blind Eddie, Car Accident, First Date, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 15:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20932133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oldguybones/pseuds/Oldguybones
Summary: Ever since he was little, Eddie Kaspbrak loved the rain. But the rain never seemed to love him back.





	Can You Feel The Rain?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thefutureisbright](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefutureisbright/gifts).

Ever since he was little, Eddie Kaspbrak loved the rain. 

His earliest memory took place in the middle of a rainstorm. He remembered the sound of the rain splattering against the window, driven sideways by the force of the wind that was shaking through the trees. Despite his mother’s protests, he had been standing on the couch, an awful, retro orange one, with his head shoved through the matching drapes to watch the rain pour down. 

_ “Edward, you know very well that you are not supposed to be standing on that couch! You could fall and crack your head open on the table for goodness sake!” _

At the time, he didn’t comprehend just how intense of a statement that was. He was only five; he didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t live in a world of consequences, at least none beyond a stern talking to, or a smack on the bottom if he’d been particularly bad.

So he continued to stand on the couch, leaning over the back to watch the pattern the rain made hitting the window. He quickly became enthralled with it. He would watch a drop and then follow its path as it raced against another droplet; he would hold silent races and see which drop would reach his predetermined finish line first. Others might find it sad just how much enjoyment Eddie took in these little races, but they were all he had. 

Normal kids got to go out in the rain and play. He knew this because he had watched them, many times before, splashing around the puddles in their oftentimes matching rain boots and jackets. He longed to be outside along with them, but he was sick. Or so said his mother, over and over again, as if repeating it would make it any more or less true. He didn’t feel sick, which was a common rebuttal of his. 

_ “Mommy, please! I want to go outside and play with the other kids!” _

He remembered hoping, desperately, that the sound of the rain against the glass would act as a plea on his behalf, that his mother would hear it and finally agree to let him go outside. But the two of them had drastically different ideas of what was best for him. 

In the end, his mother always won and he kept longing to be like a normal kid, to feel the rain on his skin and to escape the suffocating boredom he faced spending every day inside. He relished the quiet moments he could spend, peering out the window, taking in the sight of everything he longed for so dearly right in front of him. 

The last flash of the memory showed his father running from his car toward the porch steps, holding his briefcase over his head as a makeshift umbrella. He caught Eddie's gaze through the window and the biggest smile broke over his face. To little Eddie, stuck inside all day and forced to put up with his mom, it was the greatest sight in the world. 

Another vivid memory always followed this one in his mind, taking place just a few years later. Eddie had woken one Saturday morning to the gentle sound of raindrops hitting the roof. For a couple minutes, he kept his eyes closed and just listened, enjoyed the peaceful pattern of the rain and the lack of any other sounds beyond that. Such a concept must've meant that his mother was still fast asleep. 

He took the opportunity, gratefully, to slide his curtains open, one to the left and one to the right. What it revealed was a sight he had become enamored with. 

Rain droplets on a window pane. 

He could watch it for hours.

But the sound of footsteps approaching made his heartbeat quicken; suddenly the idea of being caught washed over him and found him hastily yanking his curtains shut. He flopped down onto his bed, head slamming against the pillow as his fingers tugged his blanket back up to his neck. His bedroom door seemed to open right as he went still, eyes slipping shut in the nick of time. 

But the light, quick steps bounding across his floor did not match those of his mother's, and the gentle touch on his arm certainly didn't either. He opened his eyes, slowly at first to keep up his facade that he'd just woken, and he was met with the smiling face of his father. 

_ "Get dressed, Eddie. We're gonna go on an adventure today." _

Those words provoked what must’ve been an all time record for Eddie; certainly he had never gotten dressed as quickly as he had in that moment. His time could even beat waking up on Christmas morning or those extremely rare mornings he got to eat sugary cereal for breakfast. 

His father kneeled before him with a fond chuckle. " _ Okay, we're gonna have to sneak downstairs so we don't wake mommy up. And then we have to put on our shoes, really really quietly, okay?" _

At seven years old, he didn't understand  _ why _ they had to sneak past his mom, but he knew they had to nonetheless. And it wasn't solely because his father had just said it. His mother had rejected his pleas of escape to the outside world countless times before. He didn't understand her motives, but he knew she had them and stubbornly clung onto them. 

His father clearly didn't share the same ideals and because of that, Eddie had overheard his fair share of fights between his parents. He wondered, as he stared out the car window at the dark clouds hanging ominously over them, if his father would get yelled at for this, their adventure as he had called it. The thought didn't linger for long as he became giddy with the possibility of getting caught in the rain, something most people tried adamantly to avoid. 

Sadly, they did not get caught in the rain during their arrival, but Eddie had high hopes for their departure. Judging by the way the storm clouds swirled around them, it looked promising that he would see,  _ feel,  _ rain on his way out. 

But an adventure awaited them inside of the tall, intricate building they were heading into. Eddie had never seen it before and it was definitely not a building to be forgotten. He would’ve remembered it if he’d already seen it, but alas, his mother never ventured far from Derry, or away from it at all. Eddie loved this place already, for the sheer fact that his mother had never stepped foot in it ever before. 

That much he was certain of. 

Eddie didn’t quite know how to comprehend the inside of the building. He wasn’t sure where they were exactly so he didn’t know what to make of the pictures framed on the walls. They were all various sizes and shapes, a myriad of different colors and textures splattered across the canvases. 

“ _ This is an art museum _ ,” His father had told him, seemingly picking up on his confusion. “ _ You can come in here and look at centuries worth of art from all over the world. Pretty cool, huh? _ ”

Eddie nodded, deciding that was, in fact, pretty cool. He admired the concept and felt an anxiousness creeping into his extremities; he wanted to move, he wanted to go explore this new world, not be stuck in a line, standing still. 

His attention flitted about, taking in all the different sights around him before landing on the entrance. He could feel the excitement bubbling up as another kid walked in. From his height alone, Eddie would guess him to be a few years older, but his glasses took up half his face and when he smiled, it revealed a mouthful of braces with rainbow colored bands, so maybe he was the same age after all. 

" _ Eddie _ ," his dad crouched down beside him, " _ This is my friend, Went and his son, Richie. He's the same age as you. Maybe you two can be friends." _

Eddie wasn't sure what to do with all this new information. First he got to go out on this adventure and now, he also had a friend? 

_ "Your name rhymes with spaghetti,"  _ the boy spoke with a slight lisp. 

_ "So?"  _ His nose scrunched up in distaste. His very first friend and that's the first thing out of their mouth? 

_ "Well I could call you Eddie Spaghetti!"  _ The boy, Richie, declared enthusiastically. 

Eddie didn't much care for that, but he supposed he did enjoy the way the boy's face lit up with excitement at the idea. Life was about compromise, his father had once told him after an argument between him and his mom. So he decided, once they were through the line and had all the possibilities before them, that he didn't care about the nickname and happily took Richie's hand to lead him around the museum. 

They ran ahead of their dads, who hung back and watched with fond smiles as their boys bonded. They chatted, the kind of idle small talk between two friends catching up after a long absence. 

The boys got along better than either father could have hoped for and they kept each other well entertained. At one point, though, they had to intervene when the boys burst out laughing at a piece of art depicting an old renaissance king. 

_ "Fat baby!"  _ They choked out repeatedly through their laughter. Once they gained the judgemental stares of other museum goers, Went and Frank decided to come between them and calm them down, opting to head out and grab some lunch instead. 

They got some hot dogs from a cart outside the museum and ate on the steps. His mother would never let him eat something so processed and in such a casual setting no less. So Eddie made sure to savor every last bite, which was a stark contrast to the way Richie basically inhaled his own and splattered a mix of condiments all over his shirt. 

It made Eddie laugh, especially when Richie shrugged and casually said,  _ "What're you gonna do?",  _ to which his father just shook his head in the fondest of manner and threw a couple napkins at him.

His attention was stolen away when he felt a drop of rain land near his eyebrow; his gaze darted excitedly up towards the dark, overcast sky. Another drop rolled down his cheek and then another fell on his shirt, dampening the soft salmon of his polo to a dark pink. He watched drop after drop inflict the same result until he could feel the cool wetness beginning to seep through the fabric. 

“ _ Guess that’s our cue to leave _ ,” Frank said with a laugh, scooping up their trash and tossing it in the garbage can across the walkway. Eddie looked over to see Went doing the same and Richie still sitting beside him, droplets of water collecting on the thick lenses of his glasses. 

“ _ We should do this again _ ,” Went suggested as they all rushed towards their cars, three out of four of them desperate to escape the rain. 

Halfway home, Eddie could still feel the excitement thrumming in his veins at the mere idea. His head rested against the window as he peered out of it, watching the rain pour down on the passing freeway. He could feel his eyes beginning to droop, exhaustion attempting to slide them shut. It had been a big day for him, one full of activities he wasn’t normally used to. 

“ _ Shit, it’s really coming down _ ,” he heard his father mutter from the driver’s seat. He peeked up from the passenger side of the backseat and saw the tight grip his father had on the wheel. The windshield wipers were going full speed, slapping back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. A soft gasp left his lips at the sudden jerk of the car and the sound of the horn blaring. Another car had swerved in front of them and sped ahead. 

His father turned around briefly to console him, " _ It's okay buddy, we're safe."  _

By the time he turned around, he didn't have enough time to react to the car in front of them slamming on their breaks. Frank did the best he could to swerve to the side but the motion was too drastic and caused them to spin out, slamming into the barrier on the driver's side. 

The last thing Eddie remembered seeing was his father's face and the rain still pouring down around them. He lost consciousness on impact and woke some time later to the sounds of sirens in the distance and people chattering around him. His entire body ached in a way he'd never known before, and he was scared to open his eyes in fear of what he might see. 

Eddie called out for his father, but got no reply and the panic began to take over. His breathing quickened with each cry for his father that yielded no answer. Fear plagued every nerve in his body, right alongside the pain that set them on fire. With tears pouring down his face, he finally summoned enough courage to open his eyes and when he did, all he saw was darkness.

+++++

The chime of the door sounded from above him as he slowly pulled the door open. He took a calculated step backwards, holding the door open with his forearm and stepping in with his left foot as his cane gently swept to the right. It met no resistance as he continued forward, swinging it opposite of his feet. Eventually, it lightly brushed against something on his right and he ensured his path remained straight. He pushed forward, cane continuing to tap against something, despite the soft, offended chatter he could hear from his right. He persisted until the tip of his cane hit something solid directly in front of him. 

“Can I get a large dark roast with cream?”

“Eddie,” the person in front of him sighed, the voice familiar enough to recognize. “You can’t keep cutting past the line.”

“Oh no,” Eddie gasped immediately, feigning shock. “Is that what I’m doing?” There was another sigh before he continued, “Well since I’m here, can I get my order anyways?” 

A heavy sigh sounded from a few feet away, followed by a light hum of agreement. He could hear the bustling in front of him and the annoyed huffs from the other patrons behind him. “Here you go, Eddie,” he heard the barista say gently before a hand enclosed around his wrist and a warm cup was being pressed against his open palm. 

“Thanks, Charles, you’re a gem,” Eddie said with a click of his tongue as he turned around to make his way out of the coffee shop. His cane hung by its strap around his wrist as his fingers traced over the door in front of him until they found the door handle to push it open. But before he could, the door was ripped open, presumably by a person on the other side; it startled him slightly, considering he was about to put his weight into it. 

“Thanks,” He said offhandedly, wrapping his fingers around the grip of his cane and preparing to set off on his way. But a vaguely,  _ distantly,  _ familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Eddie?” it questioned, a mix of disbelief and excitement hanging in the air. “Eddie Kaspbrak?”

“Ummm, depends on... who’s asking,” Eddie replied slowly, turning toward the sound of the voice and tightening the hold on his cane.

“Richie, Richie Tozier, is who’s asking,” the person shot back, accompanied by a happy laugh. “God, it’s been like, what...twenty years?”

A flash of memory sparked in his mind, shifting along with the beat of his heart. His dad waking him up, walking into the art museum, a boy with thick glasses and a smile full of metal, the feeling of cool rain on his skin and then finally, the impact of the crash which thrust him head first into a world of darkness. 

“Richie. Tozier,” he repeated, testing out the weight of it on his tongue. It felt right, like a pair of jeans that fit flawlessly or a cup of tea that was the perfect temperature. It wasn’t out of the ordinary by far, but comfortable and safe in its mundaneness. "The dorky kid with those gigantic glasses and braces?" 

"Oof," Richie exhaled a huff of air, "You wound me, Eds." The statement felt lighthearted in nature, no actual offense behind it at all, which came as a relief to Eddie. "I happen to think that I've quite grown into my looks." Now this statement was spoken with a poorly done British accent, which surprised Eddie. Of all of the voices Richie did that day in the museum, somehow the British one never came about. 

Eddie let out a soft bark of laughter, leaning slightly against his cane, “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“I would never lie to you, Eddie Spaghetti,” he responded in a playful manner, his hand moving to rest on Eddie’s forearm. “We should get together sometime. You know, catch up and what not.”

Eddie’s lips curled up at the corners, dawning a soft smile. “I love catching up and what not,” he chuckled, reaching into his pocket to pull his phone out. “Add new contact.” He then held his phone out in Richie’s direction as it echoed back, “Adding new contact. What’s the phone number?”

There was a smile in Richie’s voice as he listed off his phone number. 

Eddie brought his phone back towards his face, “Save under glasses emoji.”

Richie snickered softly, “What’s your number?”

Eddie could vaguely pick up the sound of Richie’s fingers tapping against the screen of his phone. Before he finished listing off his phone number, he felt a drop of rain land on the tip of his nose. 

“So I’ll give you a call then,” Richie told him as more raindrops fell. “Better head on out. Looks like it’s going to rain.”

With a stupid grin on his face, Eddie slowly made his way home, contemplating the many new beginnings he’d experienced admist the rain. So it didn’t bother him when it began pouring down. His phone sounded from inside the pocket of his coat.  _ New message from glasses emoji.  _ By the time he walked through his front door, he was drenched from head to toe and he couldn’t care less. 

+++++

It was still raining later that night when he set out to meet Richie at their agreed upon address. He felt the slightest bit of apprehension at the unknown factor playing into it; Richie refused to tell him where they were going and made him promise not to google it. He’d invited his friend Stan over to help him pick something to wear and forced Stan to google it for him, insisting that he was holding to his promise since he wasn’t the one actually doing it. But in true Stan fashion, Stan double crossed him and refused to tell him where Richie was taking him. 

All he said was that Eddie would love it. 

So as he arrived at the address, there were a whole swarm of butterflies bouncing around his insides, considering it was the first date he’d been on in  _ years.  _ He just hoped it didn’t show. The sound of footsteps shuffling against the concrete directly toward him alerted him of Richie’s presence, along with the overpowering, but pleasant scent of an oaky cologne. 

“Hey,” he greeted him with a smile and a wave in his general direction. 

"Hey, you look great!" Richie exclaimed and Eddie could tell from the tone in his voice that his face was lit up in excitement. After a quiet moment, he added, "So do I, by the way. Just in case you were wondering."

Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes. 

"May I escort you inside?"

Eddie could feel the heat in his cheeks as he nodded, smiling when he felt Richie grab his hand and loop his arm through his own so that his hand was holding onto Richie's arm. 

“Watch your step,” Richie commented idly, before quickly adding, “Like there’s an actual step right here.”

Eddie stepped forward, as lightly as he could, onto the step. When Richie alerted him of the next step in front of them, he knew the depth of it and stepped with ease. It only took a couple more similar steps for the realization to dawn on him; he knew exactly where they were and he felt momentarily breathless as his grip on Richie’s arm tightened. He remembered eating lunch on these steps shortly after meeting Richie for the first time. The sentiment was not wasted on him.

“I hope this wasn’t a stupid idea to bring you here,” Richie chuckled nervously, “I’m just now realizing that it maybe wasn’t the best date idea.”

“No, no, no!” Eddie was quick to exclaim, turning his head slightly to smile at Richie. “I love it. This is...really thoughtful.”

He could hear the gentle exhaled breath of relief from beside him. He listened fondly as Richie bought them tickets, interacting politely and charismatically with the clerk. The interaction held true to the outgoing boy he remembered from two decades ago; he still seemed just as fun-loving and goofy as he had back then. Something told him that, despite being unable to actually see the art, he would have a fantastic time regardless. 

Richie steered them to the right and walked along with Eddie’s pace, which he appreciated greatly. After a few strides, they came to a stop and Richie placed a hand on his back to guide him towards the painting they stood at. 

“What’s this one called?” Eddie felt Richie lean away from him momentarily. 

“_A Friend In Need_,” he read aloud, “A personal favorite of mine. It’s a bunch of dogs sitting around, playing poker and drinking beer. One’s even smoking a pipe,” he described, trailing off with a chuckle. 

“You’re fucking with me,” Eddie laughed, shaking his head and turning it in Richie’s direction as he persisted that he was telling nothing but the truth. “Alright then, what breeds are they?”

“What?” he questioned, laughing, “I don’t know. It looks like one’s a great dane. The one next to him is a bulldog of some kind, maybe. He’s got a cigarette in his mouth. I don’t know what the fuck the other two are.” 

“Who’s winning?” Eddie asked playfully, moving to look forward so he was facing the painting again.

“Well, from the looks of it, I’d say white and brown one sitting furthest away,” Richie answered in all seriousness, “I don’t know why, but he’s got a savage look in his eyes.”

“Okay, take me to the next one,” Eddie chuckled, bringing his arm up slowly until it found Richie’s hand and could trail easily up his arm from there. His hand rested on Richie’s bicep once again as they moved towards the next painting Richie found note-worthy, which really meant the next painting Richie found it necessary to describe in great detail while other museum goers likely gave them all kinds of judgemental looks. Eddie couldn’t tell if that was actually true, and if Richie could, he definitely didn’t care in the slightest; he liked that about Richie.

After a short while, they stopped again. 

“This one is called _The Laughing Cavalier_,” Richie told him, “It’s a painting of a dude, with a stupid big hat and a sick mustache and goatee. He’s got this big ass, fluffy white collar around his shirt. But what really stands out to me most about this painting,” Richie took on a faux pretentious voice, “Is the expression on the man’s face. You can tell that he absolutely just let one rip.”

“That’s disgusting!” Eddie proclaimed, laughing all the while. He intended to push playfully at Richie’s arm, but instead, he just grazed his sleeve and fell forward slightly as he missed.

“I gotcha,” Richie assured him softly as he rested both of his hands on Eddie’s arms to steady him. Eddie tilted his head up as he stood upright; he could feel Richie’s warm breath ghost across his lips and he subconsciously licked them. “Shall we move along to the next one?” 

Eddie coughed slightly to clear his throat, swallowing past the lump of tension. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They cycled through a few more paintings (including one called  _ Saturn Devouring His Son,  _ which Richie described as equal parts hilarious and terrifying, and  _ The Birth Of Venus,  _ which consisted of, in Richie’s words, “A naked woman and three naked, flying babies.”) before they finally reached one that Richie seemed to take seriously. Not that Eddie blamed him; there was more than one way to appreciate art and these paintings so far sounded wild. But there was something about the authenticity of Richie’s words as he spoke about the next one. 

“This one’s called The Ninth Wave and it’s just beautiful, to be quite honest with you, Eds,” Richie said, casually throwing around the nickname like they had known each other for the entirety of the twenty years it had been since they’d last seen each other. “There’s a bunch of people, they look like they’re lost at sea. And there’s this big wave towering over them. It’s really morbid if you think about it, but there’s a sunset above them, lighting the sky up in the most beautiful array of colors.”

Eddie put on a small smile, “That sounds nice,” he responded, voice sounding despondent for a brief moment. 

“Here,” Richie said gently, and then Eddie felt him move to stand behind him and reach forward to grab both of his hands. The heat rose quickly to Eddie’s cheeks as he felt Richie’s chest press against his back and his palms resting over the back of his hands so their fingers could interlock. “I know they frown upon people touching the artwork, but I just can’t keep my hands off of you.”

“Oh god, that’s so cheesy,” Eddie laughed, though trying desperately to hide his breathlessness. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this comfortable under another’s touch. Granted it had been a while since anyone had touched him in such an intimate way, but even then, Eddie never felt so at ease with another person’s hands on him. “What are you doing?”

“Just trust me,” Richie whispered and Eddie had to hold back the shiver that threatened to shoot down his spine at the feeling of Richie’s warm breath against his ear. He raised their joined left hands slightly and swiped them back and forth, “Okay, so down here is the water…"

“This is stupid,” Eddie laughed, shaking his head and trying to pull his hands away from Richie’s.

“Eddie, c’mon, this is serious art we’re talking about here,” Richie replied, his voice taking on an edge of playfully feigned seriousness. The smallest hint of laughter almost peeled away at his words. “Or rather,  _ gesturing  _ about.”

“Okay, okay.” Eddie shook his arms a little, and straightened himself out. “Gesture away.”

“Thank you,” Richie said firmly, pulling their joined hands back up to their previous position. “As I was saying, this area is the water.” He raised their hands slightly, “And this is the wave, it’s quite large and it looks like it could capsize whatever the fuck the people are floating on in a heartbeat.”

Eddie bit back a snicker.

Richie took their right hands now and moved them upwards. “Over the water, right here, the sunset is reflecting off of it, and yet it still feels so dark and gloomy. It almost feels symbolic in a way.” He brought their right hands up higher and swiped them across what would be the top of the painting. “And then here is the sunset,” he sighed softly, “It’s a beautiful mix of reds and oranges and the texture of clouds looks so real. And then in the middle here, is the sun and it’s this eruption of bright yellow and it just feels like hope.”

“You really like this one,” Eddie spoke quietly, as to not completely disrupt the moment. 

“It was my dad’s favorite,” Richie answered and his gentle words painted the most vivid picture to Eddie, one he was painfully familiar with. He moved until he was standing beside Eddie once again. “You wanna go grab something to eat?” Eddie nodded. “I know just the place.”

+++++

“I can’t believe this place is still there,” Eddie chuckled as they sat out on the front steps of the museums, each holding a hotdog from the same cart they had enjoyed two decades ago. It was entirely possible that it wasn’t in fact the same cart, but it felt the same and that was all that mattered. 

“Best hot dogs in the city,” Richie replied around his mouthful. “We could go find somewhere else to eat these if you want to get out of the rain.”

Eddie shook his head as he slowly brought his hotdog up to his mouth. He took a bite and swallowed before finally saying, “It’s not that bad. Plus, I don’t mind the rain so much.”

They eat in silence for a few minutes.

“So, when did you lose your dad?” Eddie asked knowingly. Call it a wild guess, but the way Richie spoke about the last painting in there, before declaring it to be his dad's favorite, made it apparent. Richie spoke the same way Eddie spoke about his own father, fond but far away. 

He could hear the sound of a napkin crinkling, almost covering up the sound of a soft sigh.

“A few years back,” Richie answered quietly.

Eddie’s fingers brushed against the concrete steps as he judged the distance between them. They eventually brushed against denim and he brought his hand up to rest comfortingly on Richie’s thigh. “I’m sorry,” he offered, his empathy masquerading as sympathy. 

“You lost your dad too, right?” Richie recalled, bringing his hand to rest over Eddie’s on his leg. “Wasn’t it...that day, when we were all here?”

Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat and ignored the pulse of memory that flashed in his mind. “Yeah, we got in an accident on the way home.”

“I remember my dad getting off the phone,” Richie murmured quietly, “That was the first time I ever really saw him cry. Did you...was that when you…?”

“Yeah. The last thing I remember was the impact of the crash,” Eddie nodded slowly. It was a sensitive subject; only now could Eddie joke that the incident had been a double whammy for him, losing both his father and his eyesight. He tried not to dwell on the subject when he could help it, but truth be told, he still felt the impact of it everyday. His lack of sight served as a constant reminder to what he had lost that day. 

“Did you and your dad come here a lot?” Eddie asked, eager to change the topic to anything  _ not  _ regarding himself or his trauma.

“Yeah,” Richie recounted fondly, “At least once a year since I was a kid. You know,” he let out a hint of a chuckle, “I remember my dad saying something about wishing your dad could be there. He had tried to invite you to come along with us, but your mom wanted nothing to do with it.”

Eddie scoffed bitterly, “Yeah, that sounds about right.” He shook his head in disbelief, “I begged her for years to bring me here. You wanna know what she said?” 

Richie hummed his confirmation. 

“ _ Eddie-bear, what’s the point of going if you can’t even see the art? That’s just silly.” _

“Wooooow.”

“Yeah.” A brief moment passed. “So it’s actually...really kinda perfect that you would bring me here.” Eddie turned his hand so they were palm to palm and gave Richie’s hand a squeeze. “I had a really nice time. I don’t know how you’re going to top this next time.”

“Next time, huh?” Richie questioned and Eddie could just tell that he was smirking from the smugness dripping from his voice.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Don’t be like that,” he said jokingly, yanking his hand away from Richie’s and carefully standing. He listened to the sound of what he presumed to be Richie gathering and throwing away their trash.

“Want me to walk you home?” 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Eddie clicked his tongue, shaking his head with the widest grin on his face. “Save some chivalry for next time buddy.”

“Next time,” Richie echoed gleefully. The previous light rainfall began to pick up and in a matter of moments, it was pouring down rain once again. “Get home safe, Eds.”

“You too,” Eddie smiled, taking his folded cane out of his pocket and beginning the trip home. He only made it a few steps when he heard a yell of his name, followed by rapid footsteps behind him. He turned around just in time for Richie’s arm to wrap around his waist, the other reaching up to cup Eddie’s cheek before gently pressing their lips together. Eddie couldn’t help the gasp of surprise to slip from his lips, causing Richie to pull back slightly. 

“I’m sorry, I just-”

Eddie cut him off by finding his cheeks and pulling him in for another kiss, this one filled with urgency and passion. Eddie had experienced a handle of decent kisses in his life, but none of them ever felt electric like this one, like something out of a romance movie as the rain continued coming down around them. By the time they pulled apart, they were both soaking wet, but neither seemed to mind. 

Eddie Kaspbrak loved the rain. 

Richie’s arm remained firmly wrapped around his waist, keeping them close as they pulled apart, resting their foreheads together. Eddie practically melted at the way he could feel Richie’s lips brush against his when he spoke. “If I don’t leave now, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.”

Eddie let out a bark of laughter, his hand falling down to Richie’s chest and giving him a little shove. “Get out of here then.”

“Eddie,” he gasped, voice sounding further away as he continued, “You wound me!” he declared, an echo from earlier.

“Dork!” Eddie called back affectionately, lips curved up in a big, stupid grin. 

“Until I see you again, Eddie Kaspbrak,” Richie proclaimed dramatically, “I shall wait with bated breath-” 

His words were forcefully cut off by the sound of screeching brakes, followed immediately by a graphic series of thuds. A second of silence passed, but it felt like an eternity to Eddie as he forced himself to call out Richie’s name. He inched towards the street, swiping his cane side to side quickly to guide him. 

“Richie!” he called out, more desperate this time as his entire body grew numb with realization. He could hear the sound of a car door opening, followed shortly by the horrified cries of a woman. He stumbled forward as the tips of his shoes curled over the curb. 

“Richie, answer me!” he cried, falling to his knees. His hands frantically felt out the wet concrete beneath him and he wound up crawling a few feet until finally his fingers brushed against something. 

“Richie!” He gasped, fingers immediately clutching around the fabric at their tips. “Answer me!” His hands slowly crept up his body, brushing against the soaked fabric of his shirt, until they landed on his face, smearing through a thicker liquid as he clumsily brushed back Richie’s hair. “Please!”

In the background, he could vaguely hear someone on the phone with 911, amongst the horrified chatter of the gathering crowd. He dropped his head to Richie’s chest as a sob ripped through his body. The horrible, coppery stench of blood began to wash away with the rain still pouring down around them, as it always did.

And no matter how much Eddie loved the rain, the fact still remained that the rain never seemed to love him back.

**Author's Note:**

> Do not fret! There will eventually be an epilogue with a happy ending :)


End file.
